et silk, and there was a scarlet tassel at the end.

"They are for you," he said. "It is my first Christmas present to you;
but I hope it won't be the last."

Nannie's heart beat so that she could almost hear it. "Oh, thank you,"
she said breathlessly; "they're so beautiful."

But she did not know how rare they were, nor how expensive until she
wore them in Mary's room that night.

"Where did you get them, Nannie?"

"Mr. Knox gave them to me."

There was dead silence, then Mary said: "Nannie, you ought not to take
them."

"Why not?"

"They cost such an awful lot, Nannie. They look simple, but they aren't.
The carving is exquisite."

"Well, he gave you beads, Mary."

Mary's face was turned away. "It was different. I have been such a long
time in the office."

"I don't think it is much different, and I don't see how I can give them
back, Mary."

Mary did not argue, but when a little later Nannie told of her broken
engagement, Mary said sharply: "But, Nannie--why?"

"Well, mother doesn't care much for the idea. She--she thinks a girl is
much better off to keep on at the office."

Mary was lying in her long chair under the lamp. She had a cushion under
her head, and her hand shaded her eyes. "Did--Mr. Knox have anything to
do with it?"

"What makes you ask that, Mary?"

"Did he?"

"Well, yes. You know what I told you; he thinks I'd be--wasted."

"On Dick?"

"Yes."

Mary lay for a long time with her hand over her eyes; then she said: "If
you don't marry Dick, what about your future, Nannie?"

"There's time enough to think about that. And--and I can wait."

"For what?"

Nannie blushed and laughed a little. "Prince Charming."

After that there was a silence, out of which Nannie asked: "Does your
head ache, Mary?"

"A little."

"Can't I get you something?"

"No. After I've rested a bit I'll take a walk."

Mary's walk led her by the lighted shop windows. The air was keen and
cold and helped her head. But it did not help her heart. She had a sense
of suffocation when she thought of Nannie.

She stopped in front of one of the shops. There were dolls in the
window, charming, round-eyed, ringleted. One of them was especially
captivating, with fat blond curls, fat legs, blue silk socks and
slippers, crisp frills and a broad blue hat.

"How I should have loved her when I was a little girl," was Mary's
thought as she stood looking in. Then: "How a child of my own would have
loved her."

She